The Night Mages Go To War
by CheshireEnigma
Summary: A nomad’s life is adopted at the abrupt end of childhood. But what would cause a young girl to abandon an idyllic lifestyle?


The Night Mages Go To War

By CheshireEnigma (cheshireenigma@hotmail.com)

Premise: A nomad's life is adopted at the abrupt end of childhood.  But what would cause a young girl to abandon an idyllic lifestyle?

Rating: PG-13 (Violence)

Disclaimer:  All characters mentioned within this story are property of myself with the exceptions of Only, Macabre (property of Osmosis); Zeia (property of LadyZeia).  The Dungeons & Dragons system is property of Wizards of the Coast.

_A star crashes upon the shore,_

_But this the first of many more,_

_People scream and fires roar,_

_For this is the night mages go to war._

"Ilta!  Wait up," I heard my younger brother cry from behind me, but I continued charging forward through the tall stalk of grain, feeling them slap against my face and pull at my dress.  "C'mon, Ilta!  Wait for me!"

"You'll have to hurry up if you want to catch me," I called over my shoulder.

Within moments of taunting him deeper into the field, I burst from the stalks and emerged near the gurgling brook.  The bluish water beckoned to me as a release from the summer heat that I delighted in.  From behind me, I heard my brother emerge from the grain, panting.

"Ilta, I thought I lost you," my brother, Tremain, said through tears of frustration.

Shrugging, I turned to him with a grin on my face.

"Lets go swimming!"

He looked at the water for a moment, and then grinned, his anger completely forgotten.  Removing our clothes, we slipped into the water, relishing the cold.  Splashing around in the shallows, we missed the sound of the approaching men.

"Well, well.  What have we here?" I heard a rough voice from behind me.

Startled, I spun around to find five men sneering at me, eying my naked body in a way I found unnerving.

"Looks like we have a girl in need of 'teaching,'" chuckled another.

"Lets go, Ilta," Tremain whispered, trembling but not because of the chill water.

Nodding slightly, I started to back toward where we had left our clothes but stopped when I saw what awaited us: one man dressed all in black, wearing a large black hat and flowing black cape, another man with blue hair and a large staff with a blade at either end.  Not wanting to be near either, I stepped back into deeper water, clutching Tremain close to me.

The five men were as startled as I was to see the new arrivals.

"Hey, who in the hells are you!" angrily shouted the leader, brandishing a short sword.

The man in black's only response was to start giggling.  Then, without warning, he leapt across the brook, a flaming sword in hand, and landed amongst the ruffians.  Gesturing towards one, he unleashed a swarm of energy the exploded out the back of the target, spraying gore over Tremain and I.

Tremain's eyes went wide as he started screaming hysterically.  Clutching him even tighter, I turned my back to the carnage and tried to sing a children's song to him.  He didn't stop screaming until he passed out.

"Get dressed," a voice called from over my shoulder.

Turning to face the speaker, I saw the blue-haired man holding out a hand to me with my clothes in the other.  Looking over to the other man, I could see him crouching over the bodies.  Even from a distance I could hear sounds, much like when Papa was butchering sheep.

Shakily, I climbed out of the water and lay Tremain on the bank.  Grabbing my clothes from the blue-haired man, I hastily dressed myself and then Tremain, never taking my eyes off the man.  Lifting my brother in my arms I started to head back towards the field, desperate to get away from the strangers, until a heavy hand landed on my shoulder stopping me.

"Please, leave us alone," I told the blue-haired man, on the verge of tears.

"Allow us to take you home.  Don't be afraid, we're just lost travelers," he said with a disarming half smile.

All I could do was nod numbly.

"Dakkon, stop what you're doing and lets go!  We should take this girl home and see if we can get directions," he called over to the man dressed in black.

The man snarled in the blue-haired person's direction and jumped back over the brook, landing next to us.  He made what looked like a bored gesture, but I found myself suddenly standing in the middle of the town square.  Our sudden appearance startled many of the townsfolk and in a short time, a crowd had gathered around us.  From the back, I could hear my Mother and Father pushing towards us, calling out.

"Ilta, Tremain!  Who are these people?  Why have you brought them back?" my Father bellowed, his face red with anger.

"Excuse me sir, but she didn't have much choice in the matter," said the blue haired man, stepping in front of me to intercept my Father.

"Who are you?" screamed Father, his face nearly touching the blue-haired man.

"Jalnor," the man stated simply, giving as much of a bow as possible without head-butting my Father.  "And may I ask your name?"

"You may not," my Father replied spitefully, spitting at Jalnor's feet.

Turning away, he stormed off through the crowd.  From behind me, I heard a breathy giggle.  Looking over my shoulder, I could see the man in black, Dakkon, staring at the ground with a wicked grin on his face.

"Looks like Macabre is angry at you.  What did you do to anger him?" he asked before erupting in maniacal laugh.

Startled by Dakkon's bizarre behaviour, the townsfolk started to back off.  As suddenly as his laughter had started, he stopped again and looked around.

"They come, they come!" he giddily screamed with an even broader smile.

A confused murmur went up from the gathered townsfolk until a cry came from the northern edge of town.

"Bandits, incoming!  Assemble the militia!"

Suddenly, the town was galvanized into action, people scrambling to get to their places, yet all of it done in a determined manner.  Clutching Tremain closer to my chest, I joined the stream of children moving towards the hidden cellar.  When we were all inside, one of the militia captains closed the door and we could hear the camouflage tarp being rolled over the entrance.

"Zeia and Only, hiding from battle?  How typical!" came an amused voice from behind me, causing my to jump.

In the dim light I could make out the outline of Dakkon, sitting on the ceiling, his face less than a hand's width away from mine.  I could smell death on his breath.

"Who . . . who is Zeia or Only?" I asked timidly.

"Zeia," he said pointing at me, "Only," he said pointing to Tremain with a confused look on his face.

"I'm not Zeia.  I'm Ilta.  This is Tremain," I corrected him.

For a moment, he said nothing, staring blankly at us.  Finally, a grin cracked his face.

"Macabre put you up to this, didn't he?  I never liked the fiend."

From outside, we could hear the sounds of battle came closer until it was right outside our hiding spot.  Suddenly, our sanctuary was breached as the body of a dead militia member crashed through the thin wood door.  Outside stood a grinning bandit, scimitar in hand.

"Hey, mates.  Looks like we found a brood!" he called over his shoulder while stepping forward.  "Don't worry children.  I'll take good care of you."

"Dakkon, save us, please," I whispered to him, though when I turned to look at him, he was already gone.

Anger flared in me, replaced quickly by a feeling of dread as the children pushed back, trying to get away from the filthy bandit.

"Dakkon, please," I whispered again with the same results.

"C'mon, children.  Come to Uncle Marcus.  He won't hurt you," the bandit waved his scimitar, motioning us out of the hole.

The children pressed back in the hole, some of them sobbing in fear.  A familiar giggle cut through the air seeming to come from all around.

"Zeia is a whore-bitch, but never has she been taken against her will," called Dakkon's voice.

"Wh . . . where are you?  Show yourself!" yelled the bandit, startled at the disembodied voice.

"Will the whore-bitch fight the man, or will he get the better of her?"

Swinging around, to face the direction of the voice, we saw Dakkon leaning against the outer wall of a burning building, oblivious of the flames.  Pinned to the wall besides him were the bodies of the other bandits.

"Right, pal.  You've earned yourself a trip to the afterlife!" cried the bandit, tossing me to one side while rushing forward, sword held to skewer Dakkon.

Seconds before the sword would have punctured Dakkon's chest, he dodged to one side, catching the bandit's hand and twisting sharply, causing him to drop the sword and grunt in pain.  Wrenching the hand a little more, Dakkon brought the bandit around to so he could face the man.

"This is my vacation from the afterlife," Dakkon said with a crooked smile.

Forcing the man to his knees, Dakkon raised his other hand and looked at me expectantly.  "Does Zeia wish to torture him, or can I feast?"

"Feast?" I croaked, scared of the answer.

"Fighting makes the eternal thirst beckon."

Giving him a frightened nod made him grin even more.  Clutching the bandit by the neck, Dakkon raised him until his feet no longer touched the ground then rammed a hand through the man's midsection, punching through the back of the leather jerkin.  The bandit struggled for a moment, then stilled.  With a cackle of delight, Dakkon raised the bloody mess above his head, bathing in a red rain.  After drinking his fill, he tossed the body aside, glancing around with feral eyes until he spotted me, cowering against the wall.

"Like always, leaving the killing to me," he said in a disdainful tone.  "I'll show you.  You think you don't have to fight, but you do!  You cannot avoid it!  No matter what!  You can't desert me!  I'll hunt you!" he screamed hysterically.

Looking up to the smoke darkened sky, he raised his hand and began to chant.  In the distance, I heard something bellow in rage.  Suddenly, an enormous shape darted over us.  Glancing up, I saw a huge blue-scaled dragon bank for another pass over Dakkon.  After a third pass, it landed in a small clearing outside the houses.  Dakkon nimbly scaled the dragon's back and moved to stand on its head between the enormous sapphire eyes.

The eyes . . . they seemed to be locked on me with a look of eternal sadness.  The gaze seemed familiar, but I couldn't place where I knew it.  Dakkon stomped his foot and the dragon reared up, massive wings pumping to gain altitude.  Scrambling into the clearing, I watched the dragon soar over the entrance of town where most of the sounds of battle could be heard.

I could see arcs of power leaping off of Dakkon's outstretched arms, slamming into the ground.  At one point, he made a cutting motion and suddenly the air was filled with a dozen large vulture-like creatures.  As I ran towards the sounds of fighting, the smell of blood became thicker.  When I reached the battlegrounds, I was sickened by the spectacle that greeted me.  Hundreds of bodies littered the ground, some with telltale signs of Dakkon's power, others with vicious claw marks.  A quick glance told me that Dakkon didn't discriminate who he had harmed with his magic.  Worst of all, the sound of the dying cut through the few remaining squawks of the vulture-like creatures.  And in the midst of it all stood a black-cloaked figure.

As if sensing my presence, he turned and glared at me, his eyes full of malice.

"You try to run, Zeia, you try.  You refuse to fight.  You only pine after Macabre.  And what for?  You should know he doesn't care about you.  Yet you never learn, do you?"

"Please stop it!  I'm not Zeia," I said, my quavering voice betraying my terror.

"STOP WITH THE LIES!" Dakkon bellowed.

In five long strides, he was in front of me and with a quick motion, he grabbed the front of my dress and lifted me off the ground.

"You try to run and avoid the fight.  For that you should pay," he said, eyes narrowed.

Before anything could happen, something whipped between us and I collapsed to the ground, Dakkon's pale hand still attached to my dress.  Looking up, I saw Jalnor standing ten feet away, two wicked looking knives in his hands.

"No, Dakkon.  That isn't Zeia," Jalnor said calmly.

"Don't get between us, Jalnor," Dakkon replies, sneering and seemingly oblivious to his missing appendage.

"Get a hold of yourself, Dakkon.  Remember, Zeia left . . . almost a millennia ago.  This is just a young girl."

For a moment, Dakkon stood with a dumbfounded look on his face.  Looking in my direction, he studied me intently, then looked back at Jalnor.

"Lets go.  I'm done here," Dakkon said, straightening up.

Jalnor walked over to where I lay and kneeled down.

"Are you okay?" he asked, his sapphire eyes full of concern.

Sapphire eyes . . . the realization stunned me.

"You . . . you're a dragon!" I whispered.

"Yes, I am," he said sadly.  "And Dakkon wasn't always like this.  A long time ago he saved my life and I pledged to travel with him.  But in more recent times, he's become . . . unstable.  He seems obsessed with his old companions.  Maybe his condition has decayed his mind."

Helping me to my feet, he glanced around at the remains of the town.

"It doesn't look like there's anything left for you here.  I'm sorry, Ilta."

I started to shrug, to tell him that I would get by when suddenly the true meaning of his words struck me.

"No," was all I could manage to croak.

I ran towards where the other children were hidden, tears filling my eyes.

"Tremain!" I called, hoarsely, desperate to hear my brother's voice.  "Tremain!"

As I came closer to the safe hole, a sickening smell reached my nostrils.  Rounding the corner, I saw several of the bandits standing in front of the safe hole, thick smoke pouring out of the narrow opening.  Spotting me, their leader turned with a wicked sneer on his face.

"See what you get?  You harm my men, I'll destroy your town.  Be sure to tell that to the town council."

Motioning for his men, the cackling group started to leave, only to find their way blocked by two figures: Dakkon and Jalnor.

"Well, it looks like the Rumbler Clan is back causing trouble.  Or maybe you're part of the Raven Guild?  Bah, you both bother me," Dakkon said with a malicious grin.

"Who the hell are you?" bellowed the leader.

"You were trying to recruit me earlier.  Don't you remember?" Dakkon said, confusion painted across his face.  "Or maybe word hasn't reached this town," the grin returned.

"Get him!" the leader shouted, pulling a cutlass and rushing toward Dakkon.

Faster than the eye could follow, Dakkon sped towards the bandit and unleashed a spell, causing the leader to freeze in place.  Turning his attention to the remaining bandits, he waved his hands while making a horrible growling noise.  Circling his hand around his head, a wave of energy rippled around the gaunt black figure and rushed towards the frightened humans.  As it sped across the ground, plants wilted and crumbled; the bandits followed suit.

Holding the same position for several seconds, Dakkon finally dropped his hands and spun in place.

"Jalnor, Zeia, lets go.  There's nothing left for us here," he called over his shoulder and walked towards the forest.

"I won't force you to come along, but as hard as it may be to believe, you'll be safer with us," Jalnor quietly said.

Numbed by the day's events, I nodded briefly and grabbed Jalnor's hand.

"Do you give your word?" I asked without looking at him.

His hand stiffened for a moment, then relaxed, eventually giving mine a reassuring squeeze.

"I do."

_Light the fire and lock the door,_

_Monsters bash and gnash and gore,_

_And through it all they wish for more,_

_For this is the night mages go to war._


End file.
